Smoke and Secrets
by RoswellSmokingWoman
Summary: A young CSM enters a small town, and meets a new woman that has peaked has interest. She finds something about him irresistible, despite his callousness and despite the fact that the rest of the town doesn't seem to like him. She finds it harder to stay away from him, and eventually dives into unknown waters. Should she have dove in in the first place? (CSM/OC) AU
1. Chapter 1

Smoke and Secrets

When he was younger, there was a certain air about him. It made women's loins ache with excitement and thrill. Just one glance from his stormy blue eyes could send shivers down your spine. But, there was this callousness to him, a terrifying dryness that made most cautious around him. In fact, most women wouldn't approach him despite that odd, almost surprising, seductiveness he had. He had the dark, mysterious hair that most women at the time would have swooned over. But his icy stare was even darker. Initially, I stayed away from him for this reason, like the other women in our small town. But, I couldn't help but feel some inexplicable connection to him. It was this connection that tickled by curiosity, that caused me to step closer to him, though in retrospect, perhaps, I shouldn't have.

It was a hot, summer day in 1974 when I first saw him. I could never forget our chance encounter. It was at the Quick and Saves Mart on the corner of Wabash and Harrison. The sun was shining through the window, its light almost blinding. I was walking slowly through the aisles, a small grocery basket in hand. My hips swayed from side to side as I walked, staring at my feet. The bell on the door rang out as he entered the store, my head shooting up. He walked to the aisle I was in, his feet moving quickly. I stood frozen, watching him. His eyes met mine for a brief moment, and I could remember a horrifying chill pass through my core. His arm brushed over mine, sending a chill through me. My breath hitched and my basket fell to the floor, the few cans of vegetables in it clanking onto the floor.

He walked past me at first, not looking back. I swore underneath my breath, calling him a bastard hoping he would not hear. As I picked up the first can, I could hear his footsteps approaching me. He kneeled down onto the floor next to me, picking up a can. "Swearing is unflattering on a woman," he said, his voice a smooth monotone.

"And a lack of manners is unattractive on a man," a bit back.

He smirked as he placed the last can back into my basket. As he walked away from me, I could catch the faint smell of his cologne in the air, musky, entrancing, unforgettable. He was irritating from the moment I met him, but there was something to him that made me disregard the fact. Damn it all. I wanted him, not that I should ever have wanted him in the first place.

Soon after the day I had encountered him, he had become the talk of our small town. Not many newcomers ever came, and it appeared that he was here to stay, at least for the time being. He had come alone, with no wife or family which wasn't typical for a man of his age, though it pleased me knowing that it appeared as if he wasn't attached to anyone. Some would comment on his attractiveness, gossiping about what he was capable of in bed, et cetera. But, within a few days, that would all disappear when the town realized that the newcomer was no a generally nice or good person. None of us had known his name, though most of us referred to him as "the smoker" for his almost compulsive smoking habit. He scared some of the kids, who had made him out to be some kind of villainous character whose mission was to terrorize the town. The men in the town loathed him, and the women generally came to the same consensus despite the fact that a select few of us still believed that there was more under his skin than he was showing us.

It was one Sunday evening outside of the church that I had seen him up-close, again. Most families were at home, making a nice ham dinner for the holy day. I didn't believe in all of that, and so, I took a walk, alone. I didn't think I would find anyone along the way, and I preferred it that way. I wanted some time to think, but I couldn't do much more thinking when I saw him, smoking a cigarette outside of the church. I willed myself to walk away quickly, though my legs would not let me. He noticed me, and quickly walked toward me.

"Wait up," he called after me, though I wanted to play hard to get at this point.

His hand grabbed my shoulder, and he pulled me back to him. My back hit his chest. I could smell the cigarette smoke on him. "What the hell are you doing and why are you here?"

"Do you really think it's smart to attract attention to yourself right now?" He asked, holding me to him.

"If you're going to try any funny business, it probably is."

"I assure you, I'm not. I would like to talk to you, if you could calm down for a moment and ignore your obvious dislike of me."

I pulled away from him, "fine." He caught up with me quickly, and we walked side by side for a few moments, in silence. The air grew thick and it became almost impossible for me to ignore how much I burned for his touch. And yet, I refused to initiate conversation. He pissed me off enough as it was. But, the silence grew awkward and I hoped he would break his silence soon.

"You never answered my question." I broke the silence, unable to bare the awkward tension between us.

"Why am I here? Well, to smoke and to talk to you would be the obvious answer. But, that's not what you wanted to know. You wanted to know why I am in this town of yours, and that, I cannot answer."

"Are you with the FBI, or something, then? The CIA, the DOJ, what? You've got the suit and the secrecy."

He smirked at how bright I was, though he failed to reply. Instead, he switched topics. "You know, I do have a wife," he said flatly.

Though I hadn't meant to react to the statement, I did, with an "oh" that held so much weight to it. My mouth had curled around the word with pain, but not heartbreak. It was bitter disappointment that clung to the word palpably, and it did not pass by him without notice.

"Do you care?" He looked at me, an eyebrow raised.

"Do you care?" I asked back, unable to come up with an answer that I could wholly agree upon.  
"Not in the slightest." He took a cigarette out of his pocket and played with it in his hands. He never lit it, to your surprise. "Though, your answer is much more important to me."

I stared at him, my mouth agape. A rush of need swept over me, swallowing me whole. "No," I breathed out. "Not at all."

He took me by the hand and led me to the motel he was staying at. It was a few blocks away from the church, though the walk seemed like it had lasted for miles. The moment we came to his door, he pulled my close to him. He couldn't unlock it fast enough. In a rush, he pushed me against the wall of his room, my back slamming against it. His hand cupped my face and his eyes stared into mine. "Please," I whispered. His lips met mine. The kiss was slow, yet filled with the lust we harbored for each other. It grew head quickly, the tastes of our mouths becomes one. He pushed his body closer to mine, and I could feel his hardness press up against my thigh. I moaned out in pleasure. His lips traveled down my neck, kissing and nibbling. I was in a trance, my head spinning with pleasure.

He unbuttoned my dress and watched it fall to the floor with hunger flickering in his eyes. The sight of my pale, white breasts dotted with rosebud nipples, drew him crazy. I put my hand on his chest, making him wait. "I want you to want me so bad that it hurts," I husked. I played with my nipples, rubbing circles into them. As I squirmed against the wall in pleasure, I watched beads of sweat drip down his forehead as he watched intently. He stripped himself of his clothes as he watched, imagining his naked body against mine.

His hand swiped over his hard cock which was dripping in pre-cum. I licked my lips as I watched his arm muscles pulse. His body was perfect, fit and toned. He was like a new-age Adonis, with beauty etched into every nook and cranny of his body. Every sinew was saturated with an almost God-given allure.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he picked me up in his arms and carried me to the bed. His laid on top of me, kissing my lips, my neck, my breasts. There were few places his lips had left untouched on my body, and afterwards, I became a near-breathless mass of pure lust. The room itself had disappeared in our minds, and we were left in a place where there was nothing but us and our need.

I moaned out as he inserted himself into me, tears rolling down my cheeks from the pleasure that overtook me. Our bodies were as close as they could possibly be, but we still wanted them to be closer. "Faster," I urged him as he thrust into me.

But, out of spite, he slowed down and watched me write in want with a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "How much do you want to come?" he asked me devilishly. He thrusts had been brought to a halt and he hovered over me, his lips just millimeters from mine.

"I would do anything."

"Anything?"

"Yes," I hissed out as he thrust into me with wild abandon. My heart began to race as I felt my core erupt into flames. I couldn't hear or speak, taste or see. An orgasm drowned me like an ocean suffocates a person, but this ocean felt so sublime, and the water that suffocated me caused such ecstasy. I dug my nails into his back, writhing underneath him. He came, groaning out wildly. We collapsed onto the bed sheets, breathing heavily.

It was months later, and he still resided in our town. We had never spoken of our Sunday escapade afterwards, or even spoken to each other afterwards for that matter. I watched him from afar, and had seen him in passing, though I never attempted to speak with him. He had never made an attempt to speak with me, either. There were days where my heart ached, though I was a fool to think that he could have even the slightest feelings for me. I had been something he had used, and then thrown away. And while I had yearned that I could have thrown him away, I couldn't. There was too much keeping thoughts of him at the front of my mind, visions of that night repeating before my eyes whenever I tried to close them.

Then, there was the fact that I lived alone in a home with no husband or boyfriend. The town had accepted that I would most likely die alone, and I had too. But, weeks after our liaison, my period never came. The odds that I would no longer be alone increased. I didn't pay attention to it at first, but when my clothes no longer fit around my abdomen, I could no longer ignore the fact that I was pregnant with his child.

* * *

A/N: I'm thinking about continuing this. What do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

ii

At first, he didn't know what to think of her. She was brash but intelligent, crass but enthralling. He couldn't forget the soft alto of her voice or the twinkle in her eyes when she thought she was being wicked, cruel. He liked how smart she was, how she could pick apart a single aspect of a person down to the smallest detail and come up with a conclusion. Though, when she accurately guessed he worked for the FBI, he had been a little surprised. The fact that he had said nothing had most likely confirmed it for her, but it was better for him that he didn't say anything at all. It would have driven her crazy, he knew, and it did, and that only made the excitement in his pants grow larger.

He inhaled the smoke of his cigarette, savoring at the feeling of the nicotine stimulating his veins, his brain. He felt mellowed out, calm. He puffed out a smooth, single puff of smoke into the air. Putting the cigarette out against the leg of the chair he was sitting on, he hummed out in satisfaction. "I wonder if she would want to see me again?" he mused out loud, smirking.

Though, he knew he couldn't and shouldn't. There was too much at stake if he decided to use someone for anything other than convenience. His wife—was convenience. His son—was convenience. She, she was a danger that he couldn't risk. She was crawling her way into his heart, unknowingly, but he could never let himself develop actual feelings for her. That would put her at risk, and that was something he couldn't do. If _they_ knew he had someone else, they would demand more from him. And, he wasn't about to give them any more than he wanted to give them. He wanted to exert some sort of control. He couldn't let himself lose control by letting his own heart dictate his next moves. That was too risky. Instead, he reveled in his cigarettes and took what pleasures he could from them. He reveled in the nights away from his family when he could sneak off and get what he needed to be content. He reveled in the nights where a naked stranger lay in bed next to him, because when he left the next morning, he would not have to worry about what he may lose. _They_ couldn't take those things away from him because _they_ saw them is trivial aspects of human life, meaningless and foolish.

He couldn't leave the town of Hanon—he was sent on here for a case that lasted a year. There would definitely be a problem with that, considering that he couldn't find himself able of resisting the urge to be near here, though he tried as best as he could. For now, it was enough for him to watch her from afar. But, he couldn't help but noticing, eventually, that she had started to act strange. He couldn't help being curious, of course. And so, as an FBI agent, curiosity took on a completely new meaning. He looked into her records, her credit card transactions, and found little of importance. It was when he looked into her medical records that he had noticed an increased amount of visits to an OBGYN.

He stared at the file in disbelief, the cigarette in his mouth falling from his lips and tumbling onto the floor, its ashes crumbling into the carpet. He stared at the words, unable to swallow or breathe. Pregnancy Test Results: Positive.

 _He could remember Teena, vividly, the soft curve of her belly. Sat in the Mulder's living room as a friend, though Bill hadn't known that he was no friend of his, and certainly not of Teena. He was more than that to her; he was her lover—not that Bill should ever know. And as astute as he was he hadn't known it yet—that the baby Teena was carrying was not his. Years later, he regretted it. Fox, as much as he loved him in his own way, could not be protected by him from all harm. He tried, and he succeeded for the most part. But in protecting Fox, he had hurt Teena by sacrificing Samantha. It was selfish, he knew, but a choice that he needed to make._

He couldn't do the same to her; he couldn't have another child. His own legitimate child was all he was willing to risk. He could at least control that. The prospect of another child of his roaming the earth terrified him to his core. It could make him look weak not only to his colleagues, but to the colonizers. That was not something he could afford, when he was so desperate to retain the power he had. For, if he didn't, he would endanger the Earth and that could not, under any circumstance, happen.

* * *

My phone rang three times before I moved up off of the tan couch in my living room. I wasn't expecting any phone calls, at least not this late into the evening. I could see through my window that the sky had already erupted into shades of orange, purple and soft blue. I rubbed my tired eyes as I answered the phone, yawning slightly, "Mmm…Hello?"

"Oh, did I wake you?" his deep, smooth voice asked on the other end of the phone. It sent chills down my spine.

"Why are you calling, now? Did you get bored? Maybe you weren't able to find some other easy lay and thought you could go back to me?" I sounded peeved, and I was. But, I tried to hide the slightest hint of desperation that was trying to force its way into my voice, that true feeling of wanting to be with him. What was it? I knew he had a wife, I knew I meant nothing to him, and yet…

I placed my hand on my abdomen, rubbing circles in it. It felt filled to the brim with butterflies, flapping their wings furiously at the sound of his voice. My inner voice screamed at me, "HIS BABY". I felt dizzy and nearly collapsed into the chair next to the phone.

"I was thinking, maybe it would be nice to have dinner and just talk. Though, you don't seem too keen on the idea. Perhaps, I was wrong in thinking that you would want to see me again."

As he spoke, I could almost smell the cigarette smoke off of his lips, wafting in the air. The vile smell smelled almost sublime with thoughts of him in my mind. It was almost intoxicating. "You haven't spoken to me in months. What makes you think that I would want to see you again?"

"You think I haven't noticed the way your eyes dart to me when you see me on the streets. I thought I would let you make the move this time, but you didn't." The sound of him inhaling could be heard on the other end of the phone.

Now, his words made sense. But, this man was a complicated web, with paths that crisscrossed and had no end. His answers would never be this simple. Though you realized this, you felt an aching need to see why he would want to see you again. It wasn't for sex; you were almost sure, but not quite. "Hmm, if that's what you say… Why don't we meet up some time tomorrow evening?" You hid the aggravation that was nipping at your head. He was irritatingly secretive, unbearably mysterious.

"No, it has to be tonight, 7 PM. Meet me at my motel, black dress preferable."

Of course, he wouldn't pick me up. He wasn't that kind of man and I wasn't anything to him. I would have to work for it—get all dressed up, put on some perfume, do my makeup and hair. Of course, that was how it was going to be. Why wouldn't he just tie me up and call me his sex slave, his whore, his mistress. He could blatantly where my naked body was a robe. But, instead, he was cryptic and cruel.

"Why the rush?" I teased, my voice saccharine.

He chuckled, "Don't tease." He hung up the phone, a click resounding on the other end of the line.

* * *

By the time I put my dress on and had done your hair and makeup, it was nearing seven. I didn't have much time, and part of me wanted to see his reaction to my late arrival. How delicious it would be, his nose scrunched up furiously, the yelling dampened to a whisper—his calm, collected self, pulverized into dust. I applied Chanel No 19 onto your neck and wrists, dipping my head back in ecstasy.

In the corner of my eye, I noticed the slight curve of my abdomen. It never looked more visible. There might as well have been arrows point to it. In reality, it was only slightly noticeable in the dress. The fact did nothing to ease my worry that he would notice. Sighing, I left my home, the door clicking shut behind me. Every step I took away from my home, my heart beat faster. It was petrifying, but thrilling, to think of seeing him again. _Our bodies close. Not close enough. The want. The lust. Did he want that? What did he want?_

Time had been lost to me, because by the time I reached his motel, I couldn't recall where my feet had led me or remember the sights I had seen on the way there. My hand shook as I reached to knock on the door. I knocked faintly, holding my breath as if that would hold me together.

The door opened quickly, and he stood before me, dressed in a simple black suit, white button down and black tie. "You're late," was all he said. No hello, no compliments, no formalities.

"You're an ass," I replied.

He grabbed my hand, smirking, and led me to his car. I sat in the passenger's seat and watched him as he drove. His hands placed steadily on the wheel, he focused on the road ahead. We came across a red light, and he looked over to me. "What?" I asked nervously.

"You've been staring."

Of course I had been. It had been hard not to. His black hair looked handsome against his pale skin, and the shine of his blue eyes in the evening's light made my knees feel weak. "So?"

"You're infuriating."

"If anyone is infuriating, it's you. You're the one who didn't call."

"Neither did you."

"The light's changed."

We drove on, in silence. The moonlight shimmered against the dark pavement of the street. Chilly air entered the car through the slightly open window next to me, and I shivered, rubbing my arms for heat. He had noticed and closed the window. I had no idea of where we were going, but didn't bother to ask him; I didn't expect that he would tell me. I knew we had long gone from my small town, and while I knew the surrounding towns well, I couldn't discern where we were in the dark night.

My hand brushed over my abdomen, though I quickly reminded myself that I couldn't be so blatant about my current condition, and I quickly moved my hand to my lap. I tapped my fingers against my knees nervously, wondering how long it would take to get to wherever we were going.

He had noticed—the quickly brush of her hand across her abdomen. He noticed how nervous and impatient she was, and it worried him in the back of his mind though he denied being worried at all. He wondered if she would tell him that she was pregnant willingly, or if he would have to pry until he got the answer he was looking for her. Knowing her, he expected it would be the latter.

He sighed, taking a cigarette out of the cup holder in his car. Sticking it in his mouth, he asked, "How do you feel about Italian?"

"It's fine."

"Good. I made reservations. I wasn't sure what you liked, and I had forgotten to ask."

"It's so nice that you intended to take me into consideration," she spoke sarcastically, a hint of anger in her voice.

"If I tell you I'm sorry, would you take the apology sincerely?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe you should try."

He laughed. There was something about her hostility that he found attractive. He suspected it was her defense against sexual frustration or even potential weakness. He liked the way her lip curled upwards slightly when she thought she was being particularly cruel, not because she enjoyed acting that way but because she thought she was successfully hiding her inner feelings. She broke her façade for a moment, biting her lip. Her eyes shined with a certain melancholy that hit him in the chest, but he refused to acknowledge the fact.

He rolled down the window and tapped the edge of his cigarette against it, the ashes blowing away from the car in the wind. He didn't know where they would end up, though he imagined that those few ashes would scatter across the world, microscopic bits of what he has smoked reaching every nook and cranny of the Earth. He turned to her, and noticed how stunning she looked in the moonlight. Her dark brown hair outlined her pale face beautifully. Her white skin looked bright against the darkness of everything else. Her slightly large, Roman nose that would look unflattering on almost any other woman looked so fitting on her. And her green eyes, which had an illuminating quality to them, were the star of her face. Her deepest secrets were held within them, and if he ever needed an answer to a question she refused to answer, he knew he could look in them and find it. He hadn't noticed, by the end of his pondering, he had smoked his cigarette completely and they had reached the restaurant somehow, without crashing into anything.

* * *

Dim lighting, candles, a rose on the table—not exactly what she expected from him. There was no romantic quality to him, not an overt one, and she was sure that when he said that he wanted to talk to her, he didn't mean that he would seduce her with a romantic setting and a few nice words. She sat herself down at the table. To her surprise, he pushed her towards the table gently, wordlessly.

He sat down across from and he watched her as she unfolded the napkin across her lap. "This wasn't exactly what I was expecting, you know. When I made reservations for us, I was hoping we would get a simple table—none of this—" he motioned at the candles and vase on the table.

"I wasn't expecting this either, not from you at least. You don't seem like the type."

"You'd be right about that, I suppose."

They ordered quickly, the waiter jotting their orders without a word. When the waiter asked about wine, he said they both didn't drink, watching her panic at the question. When the waiter left, he couldn't help himself. "You don't drink, I assume."

"No—I," she caught herself, swallowing. "I used to, but not anymore. It just got too much at one point. And you, you don't drink."

"No, I do. Usually it's a beer or two while watching a football game, or something strong at a bar late at night. I didn't feel like wine tonight, though." He hadn't failed to catch her near miss.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about? I had gotten the impression that you didn't want to see me again."

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," he stated simply.

"It's never so simple with men," she quickly countered.

"Or maybe it's women who expect a complicated mess." He put his hands on the table, and he leaned toward her. "Or maybe, we already have a complicated mess and just don't know it yet."

"What's with the cryptic answers? Everything you say is infuriating! They aren't real answers, there almost like questions asked as a statement. I don't want to have to dig to find and answer in the web you're spinning. I don't even know your name, you know that? And I'm still sitting here, with a guy I barely know—sitting here like some idiot—expecting the world to fall into my palm and to have some answers. But, all you're giving me is a pile of crap. How the hell can I work with that?"

"You're insane. My name is Charles, if you don't remember. Maybe, if you bothered to listen you would know that I'm making perfect sense." He retained the perfect face of composure, unflustered by her insinuations.

"Maybe if I was insane I would better understand the nonsense coming out of your mouth. Where did you learn how to make a maze out of everything? Or is this some freakish talent you were given at birth?" She balled her hands up into fists, her nails digging into her palms.

"I'm flattered," he spoke almost cordially. He found the banter exhilarating. It had been so long since a woman had thrilled him so, and yet he could do nothing about it. He had his one time with her, and there would be nothing more. And he would make sure there would be no remainder of that night. He had to erase his one mistake.

The food arrived just as she was about to start something more. She looked down at the food which was steaming hot. Just then, she noticed the emptiness of the restaurant and it irked her. Did he purposely choose a remote place? She took a bite of her food, carefully analyzing the restaurant for exits.

He watched her carefully, made sure that he had seen her swallow her food. "I'm not the only one with secrets, you know. Of course, we all have our secrets, but what you're keeping is too dangerous, you know."

The fork and knife she was holding her hands fell to the white table cloth, staining it tomato red. "What do you mean?" she spoke exasperatedly. She felt winded all of a sudden, her eyelids fluttering closed slowly.

"You weren't supposed to end up pregnant," he said, watching her fall victim to the sedative in her food.

"Wha—" The room turned black, and the air turned cold. She felt as if she were falling down a bottomless cliff, screaming until the end of time. Terror filled her last conscience moments before everything faded into nothingness. She saw the faintest hint of his blue eyes, laughing at her, as she was swept under.

* * *

A/N: The first chapter kind of sucked, but I hope this makes up for it.


	3. Chapter 3

iii

I woke up in a small dark room. The floor was cold, and the air was even colder. I noticed that I was no longer wearing my black dress, but rather a thin hospital gown. My head throbbed and my eyes were watery. It came back to me like a wrecking ball crashes into an unsuspecting wall. I let out a choked sob as I remember his nearly expressionless face and the words come out of his mouth. I was terrified for the child within me. Where was I?

"Help me, please!" I screamed. I was ready to bang on walls, but I knew it would do nothing. I was somewhere where no one was allowed to help me, I realized.

The door opened with a menacing creak, letting a sliver of light into the room. Charles stepped in, and turned on a light she didn't know existed in the cell. My heart beat like a battle drum being played by an army man who knew he was fighting on the losing side. Fear was too small of a word to express what I had felt in that moment—seeing him hover above me like a god with my fate in his hands. I shook with apprehension coursing through my veins, burning hot. I wanted to be saved, but had no one to save me.

"You bastard," I spat.

"Get up. I can't have them remove that thing until you realize why this needs to happen."

"Have you developed a conscience overnight then?" The sardonic tone in my voice had surpassed all sarcasm I had ever possessed. "Do you think that I will ever be able to understand why you are doing this? It's your child! Are you really so heartless that you can just get rid of it without a second thought?"

He pulled me up off of my feet and pushed me onto the lone chair in the cell. He walked to the door and shut it completely. Leaning his back against the door, he exhaled. His eyes gave away the pain he had felt, though I did not want to believe what I saw in them. In my eyes, he was a monster.

"What I say now, you won't remember. I'm going to make it so you don't remember any of this—me, that night, this pregnancy—at the end of the procedure. But, I can't let you go in without understanding why all of this is necessary." He stopped for a moment, as if her were checking if you were going to protest. "We are not alone in this universe. There are other forms of life out there—in outer space."

"You have to be kidding me! Do you honestly think I am so stupid as to believe that?"

"For the entirety of my career at the Federal Bureau of Investigation, I have worked with and in response to these creatures, these aliens. I assure you, they are very real. However, in dealing with them we, the group of men I work with and I, have found that they do not work with anyone without exerting some sort of control over those who they are working with. We cut a deal with them. All the men I work with and I sacrificed one of our children. That does not mean that the aliens will not come back asking for more. They will look at those of us who have the most control and try to strip us of our control. I have another child they do not yet know about, but he is in danger every day of his life. His mother is in danger every day of her life. I do not wish that upon this child or you."

I laughed a bitter laugh, unable to accept his words as the truth. "That sounds like the plot of a poorly written science fiction novel." I scratched the side of my neck, thinking. My brain was nearly obsolete. There was not a chance that I could escape. Despite his promise that I would end up alive at the end of all of this, I thought that my life would be worthless. What if I were to end up a husk of who I used to be, washed out from the techniques they would use on me to make me forget? And even then, what if I would remember one day of all that happened that day? I would never be able to cope, forced to the brink of insanity. "If this is such an inconvenience to you, then why don't you just kill me? It would be so much easier." It sounded as if I was begging, as if my only salvation was the unknown after death.

"What may seem easy to you is not easy for me, for this institution. I kill you, and we have to cover it up. Now that would be the easy part, I suppose—unless they start questioning your involvement with me. A few people most likely had seen you walking with me through the town with a suspicious stranger. That could bring unnecessary attention in my direction, especially since the entirety of the FBI doesn't know about my existence."

"Then who the hell are you? You work for the FBI, but they don't know that you exist. You go to my town, for what purpose? It wasn't just to shack up with me."

"I don't work for the FBI. I protect the American public from sensitive information that they should never need to know. The FBI protects me and my interests, because my interests are for the public. I was in your town protecting the public."

"FROM WHAT?" I screamed, my throat feeling raw and my mouth tasting of blood.

"That is of no importance to you."

I stood up from my chair, no longer feeling drowsy from the sedative. I ran toward him, throwing punches at his chest. "You're feeding me lies. It's pathetic." Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed in terror and anguish. "You're torturing me. I'd rather die than live after this," I told him, hoping that maybe he would listen.

"You didn't ask for this. I have nothing against you. You don't need to die."

"But _our_ child?" The word our—powerful, though I didn't know what effect it would have on that poor son of a bitch.

"Why would you send a child into the world knowing that it will die before it ever gets a chance to truly live?" He took my hands from his chest and held them by my side.

"We all have to die someday," I replied.

"You don't understand, do you? They'll take it. They're test on it until it's of no use to them. They'll leave it on this Earth, sick and broken. It'll be three or four, maybe even five if it's strong enough, before it dies from cancerous tumors consuming its entire body or from a virus with no cure that they put in it. Do you want to have a child that will be returned to you every other month, sick and crying, filled with pain that you as a mother could never soothe?! Do you really believe that if you continue to carry this baby, if you let it be born into this world, that it will truly have a better life than if it were to die right now? There would be no pain for it, and you would endure only a fraction of the pain of what you would endure if you were to watch it live its few years out as a poor, sick guinea pig?!"

Tears streamed down my face as I listened to his pained words. Even his face, once the epitome of aloofness, had crumbled into a worried, grieving mess. His voice cracked with each word, falling down onto the ground at our feet to toil as we fought over the life of our unborn child. "How do you expect me to believe you?"

"Because they took my son, and they took my wife. And I know, without a doubt, that they will want to take that child inside of you that moment they find out that it is mine." He grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me toward him with such a force that I had the wind kicked out of me. "That will not and cannot happen to this child, not when I can prevent it." He took a deep breath in exhaled it shakily. "I once had an affair with another woman. I have another child—his name is Fox. _They_ almost took him, but somehow I convinced them to take someone else. But, I still live in fear that they will one day take him away. I won't have control over that, but I do have control over this. So, just listen to me about this one thing, and I will be gone from your life and you will be able to live a normal, peaceful life."

I nodded my head in defeat. "Alright," I breathed, my heartbreak crawling out through my voice.

He nodded his head and let go of me, "They'll be here to take you soon." And just like that, he was gone. Out of my life. And I would never remember this.

* * *

A heavy weight was left in his chest as he left her behind in that cell, waiting for an abortion she was being forced to have. He walked to the end of the hallway, his fee feeling like cinderblocks with every step he took. He sat on the bottom step of the stairwell, and pulled out the black and white picture he held in his pocket of baby Fox and being held by Teena Mulder. He had no tears to cry, but if he did, he would be sobbing like a small child who had just lost their parents or like a man who had just lost his one shot at happiness.

He thought of her words. _Our child._ They rung in his ears with the sound of cacophonous bells being hit with metal rods, clanging and wailing. The words tortured him and pulled at his sad, small heart. "Damnit," he whispered as he shook his leg up and down with frustration.

A subordinate stood before him at the stairwell, staring at him with concern on his face. "Are you alright, sir?"

"Yes, I just…" He cleared his throat and straightened his tie. "It's a family issue."

"I understand. I hope it gets better soon. Have a good day, sir."

He moved away to make enough space for the subordinate to go up the stairs. He was left alone, again, to ponder his decisions. Every decision he had ever made was to protect the American people, but making a decision for himself was much more difficult. It put pain in his heart that he had not grown accustomed to. He played with a package of Morley's cigarettes in his hands. Never had a cigarette seemed more appealing to him in his life then at that moment. The sweet burn of the nicotine filling up his lungs, the thought the poison within the little damn things killing him slowly, it was a bliss like no other. And now he understood why his mother smoked all those years ago, to numb the pain. And one day, when the cigarettes will stop working, he hoped that he would find some satisfaction in life and if not, that he'd die before they lost their effect, their allure.

 _"Our child,"_ her voice screamed in his ears.

 _"Our child," she sobbed, her voice shedding tears into his heart._

 _"Our child,"_ she whispered brokenly, faintly.

He looked at the picture of baby Fox once more, and he remembered the chance he had missed. His own family had brought him no happiness. And while Fox was a glimmer of hope in an ocean of darkness, Fox was not his to keep. If he weren't a government man, he would have let Teena leave her husband and they would have raised Fox together, as it could have been in another universe. He mourned for the son he wasn't allowed to raise, and he thought of that unborn child, the one he wanted to love but was forbidden to. This one, he could never watch grow up and play in the sand on summer evenings. This one, he could never watch from afar and pretend as if he were right there with him or her, chasing after them, playing tag or whatever other game. He would never know true fatherhood.

He could no longer bare the pain, and he ran. He ran to the operating room, as fast as his legs would carry him. He banged on the door, his fists cutting against its metal bolts. With bloody hands, he begged the door to open. "Someone open this door!" he yelled, over and over. "We've got the wrong woman!"

The doctor hired for the task came rushing to the door and opened it, breathing heavily. "I haven't done anything yet. I was just about to get her ready for—"

He pushed passed him, and ran for her. He saw her lying on the bed, her arms and legs shaking with fear. "Come on, get up. I'm getting you out of here," he blurted out. He helped her up, but noticing that she was moving too slowly, he picked her up into his arms and carried her out of the room.

"What are you doing? You said—"

"I know what I said, but I'm taking you out of here now.

"Was it all I lie, then?"

He closed his eyes, thinking. "No, it wasn't," he finally said as he ran up the stairs and brought her out to the parking garage. "I need to get you out of here before anyone else notices."

"I don't understand; I was ready to do what I had to do, Charles. Why this, when you were so against it?" She held onto his neck, and pulled herself closer to his face.

"Because, I'm an idiot." He sat her down in his car and ran to the driver's seat, slamming the door as he sat down and turning the key in the ignition with determination. "I'm going to take you to a hotel tonight, alright? I'm going to buy you some clothes for you to wear for the time being, and then we'll talk about what happens from here on out."

"Whatever you say," she spoke quietly, watching the road in front of her. Tears fell from her eyes as she sobbed silently, her emotions rattled from the incident. How else was she supposed to react?

For a moment, he let himself reveal the pain he harbored. He placed his hand on top of her knee and squeezed it lightly, letting her know that he understood. "Don't be afraid. I know you can't trust me now, but maybe, one day."

* * *

"I'm going to buy you a few things from here. I'd rather you not try and run while I'm in the store, but I can't force you to stay here."

I nodded silently, staring at my lap. "Do you have any idea of what you need to buy?"

"Not in the slightest." He shut the door, leaving me alone in the car. I pondered escaping, though I couldn't help but wonder where this would take me. I didn't believe that he would hurt me, though I didn't know for sure. He seemed to regret his actions, though he was an excellent actor and hid his true feelings well. But, I stayed in the car, because that seemed like the best option to me. After all, only bad would come if I ran out of it, in a hospital gown, into streets I didn't know.

* * *

The store was daunting to him, with more clothing and items than he could imagine. Shopping for himself was simple, but this, this was something else. There were so many designs, patterns, dresses. Who would anyone need that many dresses? He picked out a simple, pale pink dress and a pair of sweat pants and two simple t-shirts for her. In addition to those items, he got her underwear, socks and a pair of sandals. All that she had been wearing had been left at the underground facility miles away.

When he returned to his car, he was surprised to see her sitting there, sleeping in the seat. He had almost been positive that he would have to chase her down. He was pleasantly surprised by how compliant she was being. He tossed the bag in the back seats and sat down quietly, trying to not wake her up. Starting the car, he bit his lip, wondering whether or not is was time for another cigarette or if he should hold off.

He woke her up when they reached the hotel. He needed her to get dressed before the checked in, and it was nearing sunrise. He couldn't wait any longer for her to wake up, or some of the guests at the hotel might see. He shook her lightly, and she jumped up, ready to assault him, but stopped short of punching him in the face. "Good morning to you too."

She rubbed her eyes sleepily. "Morning? It's not even dawn yet. I want to go back to sleep."

"You'll be able to go back to sleep once you get dressed and we check in." He reached for the bag of clothes in the back seats and then handed it to her. "I hope it's not too horrible."

She looked inside of the bag and immediately picked the black sweat pants and the pale blue t-shirt. "It's fine, thanks."

"Good. I'll wait outside as you get—" Before he could finish his statement, she had already removed the hospital gown from her body. "You couldn't wait?"

"It's not like you haven't seen any of this before." She quickly changed into the clothing while he looked away, trying to give her a modicum of respect. She smiled when she noticed him looking away. While she was still angry with him, and did not completely trust him, she felt that he had sincerely regretted his actions.

* * *

A/N: I made The CSM's son, Jeffrey, an abductee because it would make this story make more sense. I hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. This is AU, so…


	4. Chapter 4

iv

The bed in the room was the perfect firmness, and the blanket was soft. The room was fine, except for one thing—and that was that there was only one bed in it. The hotel had no other rooms. And so, when I sat up from the bed and looked up at Charles, I wondered what he would say and if he would claim the bed as his own.

He had the same thought when he looked at the queen bed in the middle of the room, sitting on the floor alone. He didn't want to sleep on the floor, and yet, he couldn't force a pregnant woman to sleep on the floor either. "You take the bed, I'll find some way to manage," he said finally, scratching the side of his neck.

He waited until she fell asleep, which was relatively quickly, to exit the room. He went to the main lobby and used the phone they had for guest use to call him, to call Ronald. He dialed his number, covering the dial with his hand so that on the off chance, no one would see the number.

"Hello," said Ronald sleepily on the other side of the line.

"I'm surprised you're still up," Charles said in a half-whisper.

"I'm surprised you're calling me this late in the night. Is this a midnight love confession, or?" Deep Throat laughed at his own question.

"Have you heard anything, yet?"

"About the woman you stole from the underground facility in Connecticut or about something else?" Deep Throat was teasing him, taking pleasure in his small mistake. They respected each other, though as members of the Syndicate, there was tension between them. They didn't always agree on how they should handle Syndicate matters, and they often competed for power within it.

"Does anyone else know?" The Smoking Man didn't want this, didn't want anyone to know. He had hoped he could slip by unnoticed.

"I haven't told anyone, and don't plan on it either. I don't think anyone else knows, other than my informant and me." He took a deep breath. "Why did you take her? You were the one that brought her in."

"It's complicated."

"She's pregnant, isn't she?" Deep Throat asked with frustration in his voice. "We weren't supposed go out looking for romance or anything else, not after _they_ took our families."

"It was one night, Ronald." He brushed his hand through his hair, his throat and lungs itching for a cigarette. "I didn't think this would happen."

"It doesn't matter what you thought. You don't fool around unless there's something special about a girl, Charles. I've known you long enough to know that at least."

"It's been so long since Cassandra was taken, and even if she wasn't, I don't think she and I would have…"

"I know, but, really? You couldn't have been more careful?"

"I can't change what's happened. I have to protect her now. I don't want her to suffer because of my mistake."

"She really must be something else, Charles. I would ask to meet her, if you weren't on this special assignment."

He hung up the phone, tired of Ronald's teasing. It wasn't a joking matter, though he knew Ronald would never let this go. It was dangerous that he knew about this, but he knew he could trust that Ronald would never tell a soul. But, he had to acknowledge that Ronald was right about one thing, and that is that there was something that was special about her. He couldn't deny it, even if he tried.

* * *

When I woke up, the sun was shining brightly through the window. I noticed that he wasn't in the room, and I wondered if he had left me all alone. Maybe, he didn't want to have anything to do with me. I put my hand on my stomach, and said, "Looks like we're all alone, baby."

The door opened just then, and he came in, bags under his eyes from no doubt a sleepless night. "You're up so early?" he asked. "I thought you would have slept in until noon, at least."

"I can't sleep anymore. Not tired, you know." I rubbed my eyes as I got up from the bed. "But it does look like you could use some sleep."

"I'm fine." He straightened his tie, clearing his throat. "We should get going. We'll talk on the ride."

"I'd rather we talked here." I looked for the bag of clothing that he had taken up for me, but couldn't seem to find it until I looked underneath the bed. "If we fight end up fighting, it's better that we fight here than in the car."

"I'm taking you home, you're going to pack your things, and then I'm going to find you a new home. You need to be in hiding, from now until I know it's safe for you. Maybe until the day you die."

"Are you fucking insane?" Tears were tugging at my tear ducts, though I willed myself to not cry. "After all that happened yesterday? I'm still trying to find out if it was a drug-induced dream, a nightmare, or a momentary lapse of sanity! You tell me about aliens, and danger, and life, and death. I had to have been insane, if I believed you then. You claim that you work with the FBI, but from what I can tell, you only play a game of lies." I made my way to the bathroom, ready to change and maybe leave him without another word.

He grabbed me, pulling me toward him, before I could reach the bathroom, "I've told a lot of lies in my life, but last night, I did not lie to you. The things I told you, what you now know—I could kill you for having that information!"

"Then why don't you?" I spat, trying to pull away from him but failing. "You could have last night. Do you regret it now, huh?"

"You have no idea what I'm feeling right now," he whispered, staring into my eyes.

* * *

"You have no idea what I'm feeling right now," I said so quietly I was surprised audible words had come out of my mouth. I looked into her eyes, bloodshot from the tears that were falling from them. I did regret it, but not as much as I would have regretted other things. That's why I kissed her then—because she was so infuriating in the moment, that if I hadn't kissed her, I would have regretted it. It was the only way to get her to shut up, which was a bonus.

She wasn't willing at first, and I considered backing off, but then all of a sudden, she melted into the kiss. Her lips were soft and warm. The taste of morning breath rolled off of her tongue, but I didn't care. I nibbled on her bottom lip slightly, falling deeper in the kiss too. From grasping her arms, my hands wrapped around her waist and I pulled her closer to me.

Taking her lips from mine, she took a breath, smirking. "I didn't know you could feel," she teased cheekily.

"All humans can, unfortunately." I kissed her again, this time with a sort of hunger that I hadn't felt since months ago; the first time I had fucked her.

Her hands wrapped around my neck. I led her to the bed, making sure to never break the kiss. The feeling of her against me was otherworldly. I pulled her shirt over her head as she unbuttoned my white-button down shirt.

"What the hell are we doing?" she asked as I kissed the crook of her neck, eliciting a sweet mewl from her even sweeter lips. "Oh, fuck it."

"That's exactly what I plan on doing to you." We practically threw clothes off of each other, passion like fire burning between us. Time seem strained, never moving fast enough. I needed her now, and I knew she needed me too. Her hand lay on my bare chest as she kissed my jaw. I groaned as her hand slid from my chest to my crotch, her fingers teasing my balls lightly.

I picked her up and threw her on the bed. Watching her naked body quiver as she waited for my next move, I crawled onto the bed toward her. My fingers slid over her wet pussy, becoming coated in her delicious juices. I placed my tongue onto her clit, carefully rubbing circles into it, tasting her. She tasted of the gods' ambrosia, intoxicating and addictive. How she moaned for me, choking out my name between labored breaths, "Charles."

She begged for me to be inside her, but I loved torturing her. I slowed down my tongue, reveling in the sound of her cry as she pled for me to allow her to climax. "Please, I need you inside of me. I want to feel your big, fat cock slam into me over and over until the only word I know is your name."

Irresistible—that's what she was to me, like a drug, like cigarettes. I pressed kisses up her body. She moaned out, squirming beneath me. "You're so sexy," I whispered against her neck as I inserted myself into her. She was deliciously tight. My mind grew fuzzier with every thrust, warmth spreading throughout my body as I crumbled into a mess of ecstasy and pleasure.

"Charles," she choked out, her nails digging into my shoulders until they broke through my skin. Screaming out like a wild animal, she orgasmed underneath as tears fell down her cheeks from the intensity of it. I lost myself in that very same intensity, succumbing to the arousal that filled me so completely.

"Lindy," I whispered as I finished, slowly rolling off of her. I pulled her naked body to mine, feeling the warmth of her shining, wet skin. "Just give me this minute. I don't want to care about anything else right now."

"Okay," she told me, sinking into my arms.

* * *

How was it that I could need a man I hated so much? His every touch was electric; his every kiss was pure fire. When he held me, I felt safe, despite the danger that he had put me in. In spite of all of the hate, all of the anger that he filled me with, he made me feel so je ne sais quoi. "God damnit," I breathed as I curled up next to him, putting my hand on his chest.

He smiled, and looked down to me. "How much do you want to run away right now?" he asked; the questioning seeming out of place, but in reality, not so much.

"More than anything," I replied, my fingers tapping his chest absentmindedly.

His hand reached down to my baby bump and he let it lay there, his thumb rubbing circles at the highest point of it. I saw such yearning in his eyes as he did this, a softness I had not seen before. "Then leave," he said halfheartedly.

But I didn't, I couldn't. I stayed there in his arms, despite all that had happened. He skin smelled of cigarettes, but all I could do was to inhale his scent. My eyes closed as he pressed a gentle kiss against the top of my head. I thought I was crazy, for wanting to stay with this man who might very well have been insane. Aliens. God knows what made him believe in all of that. Aliens, I laughed to myself.

"We need to go soon," I said blankly.

"I need you to pack all of your things when you get home. Bring only what you need most. I'll take you somewhere safe."

"Aliens aren't real, Charles."

"You don't know," he spoke angrily. "We've been hiding things for so many years. Don't ask me what, because if I tell you, I will have to kill you."

"Kill me then," I joked.

He tugged me up from the bed and pushed me toward the bathroom door. "Take a shower and get dressed," he demanded, obviously annoyed.

"Don't you want to take a shower with me?" I tempted him, biting my lips as I waited for his reaction.

He struggled for a moment, contemplating the idea. He was stark naked, and couldn't hide his arousal from me. Lust washed over his eyes as he watched me. "You vixen," he husked. I took him by the hand and dragged him into the bathroom, my lips capturing his as the door closed with a click.

* * *

It was nearing midnight and we were absolutely exhausted. We were in the car, our clothing strewn all over the place. She was on top of me, her back dangerously close to the steering wheel. I didn't know whether it was her hormones or years of sexual repression coming out at once, but no amount of sex was enough for her. I was her drug, just like cigarettes were mine. I was her demon, and I knew that from the look in her eyes, slightly terrified but filled with a sort of need that never quite went away.

The car sat in the drive way of the small farmhouse; we couldn't make it out of the car before our passion overtook all else. I'd never let myself be seduced like this before, and I wasn't sure what would happen if I couldn't control myself. I was hoping that this would just be some hormonal thing for her that would pass soon, but at the same time it was some of the best sex of my entire life. The way her legs wound around my waist as I rocked into her, the way her breath shattered against my neck as she moaned out in pure ecstasy, her perfect tightness around my hard cock… Goosebumps dotted my skin as I thought about fucking her as she lied on top of me, breathing heavily.

"Come on," I said, "I'll help you unpack."

"Don't wanna," she mumbled, "Too sleepy."

I opened the car door and picking her up, I carried her into the house. She held onto me tightly, whispering into my ear half asleep, "I hate you."

I knew she did. It wasn't a question of whether or not she hated me, but whether or not she would forgive me. Though I knew it wasn't about forgiveness, simply fucking like rabbits would not take away her problems. Forgiveness didn't matter when she would be unhappy for the rest of her life. And, I did that to her. I wanted to take away all the pain I would cause her, but how could the inflictor be the healer? I set her down on the bed and gazed at her for a moment. She truly was beautiful; she looked so innocent when she was asleep.

I turned around, heading back to the car. Her hand grabbed mine, tugging me back to her. "Don't go," she murmured, "I want to hate you while you're right next to me."

"I'll be back," I told her, smiling a bit. But, when I saw that she had fallen asleep, I left, ignoring all thoughts screaming at me inside of my head.

I sat down in the car, and put it in reverse. I watched the farmhouse in the review mirror, growing smaller and small until it faded into the blackness of the night as I drove away. I just needed to drive, until my head was clear. I didn't know when that would be, if I would ever stop driving. I called Ronald that night, telling him he had to take over my assignment until further notice. He agreed without question.

* * *

A/N: I hope you liked this chapter! Please R&R! I would love to know your thoughts on this story. Thank you to all of the readers.


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